Thursday, 30 August 2018

A No Kidding friend recently was telling me about her
weekend away at an elderly friend’s 80th birthday party, when she
was frequently asked (by many of those attending, who no doubt were also
older), “do you have a family?”

Whilst I had a mother who would always use this phrase to
ask whether someone had children, she said she’d never heard that before, but
she still managed to give the perfect response, responding, “Yes, I have a
family, a very close family, but if you mean, ‘do I have children,’ then the
answer is no.”

This made me think about Mel’s recent post about asking
questions, when she thought immediately about our No Kidding community’s
reaction* to being asked if we have children. In writing a response to her, I
realised I had a lot to say on this topic!

I'll start by saying that asking questions is important. For a start, it shows
that we're not selfishly focused on ourselves, and it shows respect to the
other people we are with. It's how we build relationships, and how we got to
know our significant others and our best friends, after all. Isn't it?

It’s also a really useful tool for those of us who might be
a little shy when meeting new people. I learned the value of asking questions
when I was a diplomat attending a lot of business social functions, and found that asking questions ensured that conversation flowed when I was meeting complete strangers. It’s easy to
slip out of the habit though, so a reminder to ask questions is always useful.

However, I think the questions we ask tell people a lot
about us too. In fact, I think there are essentially two types of questions,
split between selfish and unselfish motives:

The question focused on what we want to talk
about.

The question that is genuinely intended to learn
more about the person we are talking to.

The first, more selfish question is about things we are
interested in, things we like talking about. For example, do you have kids? Do
you travel?What do you do for work? One
of the commenters on Mel’s post noted that now she has children she understands
that people like to talk about their children, and she forgives that question.
Yet she doesn’t like being asked what she does for a living. To me, that’s a
bit hypocritical. If you forgive the one question, just because it now suits your circumstances, you have to accept the
second.

The purpose of this question is to find things we share with
the other person. Yes, that is completely understandable. Finding commonalities is a way to feel comfortable, and focusing on them can build connections. But asking questions only to find commonalities is perhaps short-sighted, restricting ourselves to what we know, and what we are
comfortable with. It is lazy. It is looking for one answer, the one that you
can relate to. And so it can also be isolating to the person on the other end
of the question.

That’s the issue that people going through infertility have,
and even more, those of us who have no children.
When you get the same question over and over and over again, it is
understandable that we feel annoyed at being asked this question. The person
asking it is almost invariably hoping for one response. (Though Infertile
Phoenix recently noted the exception that proves the rule here.) So we know
that our response is never going to get approval. We are continually asked the
same question by people who we know will be disappointed by our answer.

The second question is much more generous, and can take us
places we never expected to go. We don’t need to find things that we have in
common with someone to have an interesting conversation. Finding that they have
different interests or backgrounds or do something completely outside our own
experience can open new worlds to us, teach us new things, encourage us to
think about life in a different way, and learn to be more open and
understanding of people who are different from us. We don’t have to be the same
to share a wonder of the world, to enjoy others’ company, or to respect others’
differences.

Finally, I think that how people respond to the answer to
our answers to their questions is just as important too. Do they or we respond openly, with interest or
kindness, when the answer isn’t as expected? Do we read the body language and
accept that this is not something the person might want to talk about, or do we
probe on regardless, offering uninvited advice and suggestions, or further even
more invasive questions? If someone reacts to me with an open mind and genuine wish to
engage me in a dialogue as equals, then personally I have found any
inadvertently probing questions are much more easily tolerated.

That is another reason that the No Kidding amongst us resent
the “do you have children?” question. As I mentioned above, we know that our
answer will disappoint most people who ask it, as they clearly want to be able
to talk about having children. Worse than that though, we often find ourselves
being judged when we respond “no.” Sometimes there can be a hostile reaction.
Sometimes we are ignored, dismissed as not worthy of further conversation. This
has certainly happened to me more than once, and I imagine to all my No Kidding
readers.

So I think that anyone asking questions needs to think
before they ask, whatever they ask, and temper the questions by tone of voice
and language used. I ask people now "what keeps you busy?"
rather than the assumptions, "what do you do for a living?" or
"do you have children?" In their response, people who have children will pretty soon
tell you, and those who are working and very busy will tell you that too, but
those who are travelling or volunteering or writing or making art or caring for
elderly relatives or working with Jane Goodall in Africa or also get a chance to respond without having to challenge
stereotypes or feel that they're being judged. In return, I get the gift of new insight into worlds I could never enter.* See comments below. I've misrepresented Mel's post, as she didn't single out our group. I did!

Monday, 27 August 2018

I thought I had a good topic for today’s Microblog
Monday post, but it required way more than eight sentences to cover, so watch
this space tomorrow or the next day.

Poetry month is coming to an end over on my daily blog, Take
Two, and it has been a revelation to me, because – surprisingly – I have
enjoyed it. I posted my Triolet a few weeks ago, and I’ve touched on
infertility obliquely in some posts. Some of the poems have made me really
happy, especially this one about my
happy place, and this one when my happy
place changed from the beach.

Feel free to have a look around at the month, but I thought
I’d share the two lines that dominated my villanelle. Unfortunately, the topic
I chose was about my mother-in-law’s family, and her six sisters, so it’s not
really an infertility theme. Still, I think you’ll like the lines:

Monday, 20 August 2018

This morning I saw an article noting that a river cruise
company was going adults-only. There was a comment in the article (I think, or
maybe it was on Fbk) – I can’t find it again, so don’t know who said this –
stating simply,

“Not every space needs to be family friendly.”

That isn’t
unreasonable, is it? But of course, asking that reminds me of the conversations we had in
the ALI community about adults-only spaces seven years ago. I’m hoping that the
fact that these occasional adults-only space haven't resulted in a dramatic increase in places
that are restrictive of children has eased the fears of some of those
commenting back then. After all, not every space needs to be adults only, and
not every space needs to be family friendly, and I for one (as well as all my
friends and family who don’t have children, and also those who do) am very grateful
for the variety.

This article* coined the phrase “reproductive harassment” as a way of
explaining all the questions we get about whether we have children, have we
thought about adopting, etc.

Monday, 6 August 2018

I’ve often written about one of the key behaviours that
helped me heal, that keeps me at a healthy equilibrium, and allows me to look
forward not back. And that is refusing to allow myself to think about the what-ifs, never imagining the details of the child or children we never had, those babies
we lost who would (this is always dangerous, but because of this policy I
always have to stop to calculate this) by now be 16 and 15 respectively, as this would
simply be an exercise of self-flagellation.

I’m watching the TV show Counterpart,
which is set in two alternative versions of our world, where versions of each
person exist in both, but with subtle differences. <Warning: SPOILER ALERT>
The lead character in one world lost a baby to miscarriage, and never had
children, and in the other world, the counterpart character had that baby (and
its name was the same as that chosen for the miscarried baby in the other
world). The childless character discovers this, and understandably has an
overwhelming urge to get to know the now grown-up baby.

It is hard to watch this and not wonder about a 16-year-old
girl or 15-year-old boy (or vice versa), to wonder what their personalities and
interests and talents and flaws would have been. I try not to, but it is hard,
and after so many years of resisting this temptation, it is unexpected too.

I’m pretty confident that I’m not going to fully fall prey
to the temptations, because – unlike on Counterpart – there is not and
will never be a real person to see as the embodiment of my child, but … still …

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About Me

This is my blog on living and loving life without children after infertility. Currently I'm a blogger, a self-employed businessperson, amateur photographer, and traveller.

I blog on A Separate Life about my everyday life, but this is a space for thoughts on my No Kidding lifestyle, the good and the bad, remembering what was lost, and celebrating what I have.

My husband and I are the stereotypical couple without children who love to travel. I am (at) travellingMali on Instagram and there I post photos of various trips internationally, past and present, and of NZ travels, along with the occasional photos from where I live.

In 2013 I travelled in Europe and the Middle East for five months, and kept a blog at Lemons to Limoncello.

I also had a travelblog some years ago, but stopped posting in 2012, which you can see at Mali's Travelalphablog. I'm hoping to start a travel blog again, so watch this space!